They Taste Like Chicken

Dear Molly,

As you know, I'm very concerned for the viral outbreak which will render otherwise affable human beings hungry and desirous for the taste of other human beings' flesh and blood.  What was originally conceived as a joke in my mind has now become a very real and pressing fear of mine.  And yours, I think.  You may not take it quite so seriously as I do, though.

One of my coworkers, when asked if he was "into" zombies, replied evenly and without skipping a beat: "I'm not into zombies; I acknowledge their very real presence in the world."  I thought this was a fantastic retort.  (Just wanted to share that with you.)

However, I just want to stipulate that I don't necessarily believe those infected will be called zombies, per se.  That term finds a better home in the archives of popular culture, I think.  (Though that is a tremendously stupendous series.)  Nor do I really think we will be aware it's happening (the outbreak) until it's much too late.  As usual.  Not until our mothers try to chew our arms off, that is.

That's another fear of mine.  It's one thing to be surrounded by animated dead people who want to tear you to shreds and eat you limb by limb... it's an entirely other thing for those people to be your mom and dad.  It makes me really sad to think about, actually.  I'm feeling a little despondent right now.

Ho hum.

One of the most confounding and profound things to contemplate should this whole scenario go down -- sorry, when this whole scenario goes down -- is what you would do if you were surrounded by a whole mass of them, your mom and dad included in that mass, with only a couple bullets left in your gun.  Assuming you have a gun and ammo to begin with.  What would you do?  Would you kill yourself?  Or would you destroy at least two of them with your bullets before letting them tear you apart?  What if it was you and your best friend... and s/he became infected... would you kill her/him right away, or spend as much time together as you can before s/he turns?

Oh... here comes that wave of depression again.  I am terribly sad thinking about this, and I need your advice as soon as possible.  Now I think I'm going to go crawl under the covers and have a good cry, thinking about my mom wanting to chew me to pieces.

Thanks,
Kate

I'm Lurking In Your Closet

For serious.

Impressions (Good or Bad)

Dear Molly,

I can hear that all the way over here (the other side of the couch).  Since my impressions of Maria Callas' Puccini don't seem to impress you, tell me: what will?  Are you just terminally unimpressed?

Best,
Kate

P.S. -- I'm really not digging the Elvis you're pumping from the iPad.

Thank You

Dear Kate,

I really must thank you for the subscription. At first, I'll admit, I thought of it as a dig and couldn't even imagine reading it, but then the first issue came and I found myself flipping through it and reading intereseting tidbits out loud for the benefit of those within hearing range. Albeit, my wardrobe has taken an interesting turn with the numerous cat faces adorning the fronts of all my shirts, but they just make for good conversation starters, plus a great new business venture (I'm thinking of starting a website called catonmyshirt.com where people can purchase my handmade tees).

But seriously, there actually is some good stuff in this magazine. For instance, did you know a lot of cats do well on a raw diet? I thought this was a good idea for my friend's cat who turns her nose up at even the organic cat food. Also, for my fat, lazy cat they suggest hiding her food in different places around the house, forcing her to excerise. So, yeah, I have been enjoying cat fancy. If that makes me a crazy, then so be it.

-Molly

PS- Also, a sex talk with your cat?? Come on, lets not go too far. After all, my cats are speyed and neutered, thank you very much Bob Barker.